


Moments with Wardens

by JessicaMariana



Series: Moments [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 23:51:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7912330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaMariana/pseuds/JessicaMariana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles featuring my different Wardens.<br/>You don't have to read them all, and the chapters are not connected to one another. And be sure to check each chapter's summary for more specific tagging!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Lehmen Mahariel / Zevran Arainai**  
>  This chapter takes place during The Battle of Denerim.  
> Chapter tags (because not every chapter needs the same tags): Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst

_ I don’t want to die, _ Lehmen thought as he plunged the sword into the dragon’s head with all his might.Tears of sadness and anger rolled freely down his cheeks. Thoughts of Zevran and what could have been flashed through his mind. His head spun, but he held on with what little stamina he had left. He could feel the corrupted power of the Old God’s soul pass through him as the life essence drained from the beast beneath him. Lehmen’s vision blurred and went black, but still he held on. He had to finish this; all of Thedas relied on him.

Behind his closed eyelids he saw the faint image of Zevran, his face filled with worry, just as Lehmen had last seen it some hour ago. Lehmen recalled his last words to him.

_ Whatever happens… I love you. _

_ I love you _ , Lehmen repeated under his breath as everything fell silent.

 

“Andraste’s flaming ass! He breathes...”

Zevran’s voice rang through the darkness like a lantern guiding the weary traveller, and it was all Lehmen could hear. For a moment he thought they had died and been reunited in the eternal bliss of the afterlife, but as he came to he began to feel the discomfort of cold, hard stone pressing against him. And there was a presence there; a warm weight on his shoulder accompanied by the smell of leather.

_ Antivan leather, _ Lehmen corrected himself with a weary smile. “Zevran.”

“He’s alive!” Zevran cried out, and Lehmen felt him lie down on top of him, crushing him in a hug so strong it took the breath out of him.

“Don’t ever do that to me again!” Zevran said, squeezing Lehmen’s shoulders.

Zevran was alive. And he was alive. Morrigan’s ritual had succeeded. And the Blight was over.

Lehmen allowed himself a sigh of relief, but winced at the pain shooting through his battered body.

“Ow,” he muttered under his breath, and Zevran hurriedly got off him. He helped Lehmen roll over onto his back, looking at him with the same worry as Lehmen remembered from before the battle.

Lehmen looked up at Zevran and smiled. “I love you,” he said.

 


	2. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Zili Brosca / Dazda Cadash**  
>  This chapter takes place during Inquisition.  
> Chapter tags (because not every chapter needs the same tags): Established Relationship

Zili sighed heavily and fanned herself with her hand. It didn’t help the slightest. The sun shone bright-white and merciless, high on the pale blue sky.

Zili wiped the sweat off her brow. She smacked her lips. She was thirsty. Again. It had only been a few minutes since she last tipped the skin of water to her lips.

 _Whoever thought the desert was a good idea was mistaken,_ she thought to herself, but trudged on nonetheless. She had never been so hot in her life. It made her miss the stagnant air and steady temperature of the Deep Roads.

As a warm breeze lifted sand off the ground and whipped it in her face, she she closed her eyes for a moment and imagined she was back home. Stinky, old Dust Town was a better alternative to this.

“You miss it.”

Zili opened her eyes and looked at Dazda. It wasn’t a question.

Zili nodded in response and made a face at her own answer. She raised her hands to gesture, and Dazda watched her. It had been over ten years, but yes… she missed Orzammar. If it hadn’t been for the Blight...

“Who knows where we might’ve ended up by now,” Dazda chuckled, shaking her head. Zili tried to keep out of trouble, but trouble had a tendency of finding her nevertheless.

“Dead, probably,” Zili signed. “I would be, at least. Don’t know about you… You were always a survivor.”

Dazda gave her a crooked smile.

“I would’ve made sure to get you out of whatever might’ve tried to kill you,” she said. She dropped her gaze and reached out to take Zili’s hand, ignoring the clamminess of it. “I’m glad we both made it out alive.”

 _And that we found each other again,_ Zili added in her thoughts, unable to sign, and smiled back at Dazda and squeezed her hand for punctuation.

Dazda walked closer to her, and for a short moment the two dwarves forgot about the horrible heat and just enjoyed one another’s presence.


	3. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Cecilia Cousland / Alistair Theirin**  
>  This chapter takes place before The Battle of Denerim.  
> Chapter tags (because not every chapter needs the same tags): Hurt/Comfort,

The Archdemon straightened its long neck and looked down at Cecilia. Its eyes were two dark fiery pits that bore into her soul. All she could hear was the song, the hauntingly beautiful melody that would be her death. In the back of her mind she wondered if this was it, if this was how she would die.

Cecilia’s heart raced in her chest as the dragon opened its maw. Its teeth dripped with foul, black tar-like liquid. And then it roared. Cecilia reached up to cover her ears. And she fell. The ground vanished beneath her and the world began to spin. Her heart dropped as she looked down at the abyss. She screamed. And woke up.

Cecilia’s body shook with exhaustion. Sweat dripped down her brow into her tangled hair, and her eyes blurred with tears. She breathed a sigh of relief that it had only been a dream.

“Did you have the same dream?” Alistair’s quiet voice drifted across the small space between them. Cecilia looked over at him. He looked like he hadn’t slept for days; dark smudges coloured the skin under his reddened eyes.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice hoarse. Her heart still beat rapidly and she tried to breathe evenly to calm it down. Alistair turned to his side and reached out his arm over the small patch of damp grass towards her. She turned towards him and took his hand. It was clammy with sweat, but it was a comfort to hold: It was strong and big over hers, and the way he stroked his thumb absentmindedly over the back of her hand calmed her. They lay like that for a long moment while the sweat cooled on their brows. Alistair’s eyes kept flicking to Cecilia’s, and even though the noticed, she didn’t comment on it. After another moment, she sat up and let go of Alistair’s hand. He watched her questioningly. She quietly grabbed the edge of her bedroll and pulled it closer to Alistair’s. He didn’t protest as she lay back down on it, facing him. He happily accepted as she scooted closer to him and snuggled up against his chest; arms folded between them and forehead resting against his shoulder. He slipped one arm in under her head while draping the other over her waist. It had been too long since either of them felt so comfortable while lying on the cold ground under the open sky.


	4. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Cecilia Cousland / Alistair Theirin**  
>  This chapter takes place before The Battle of Denerim.  
> Chapter tags (because not every chapter needs the same tags): Established Relationship

The tent rustled softly in the night wind of the Ferelden autumn. Cecilia curled up in her bedroll while pulling the woollen blankets tighter around herself. Her teeth rattled uncontrollably, and her body wouldn't stop shaking. She wanted to sleep, but as long as she was this cold, it would only remain a wish. She was getting stiff lying on the same side, in the same position, for so long on the cold, hard ground, but moving would mean letting the cold air in, and that made the stiffness in her back and shoulders endurable for a little longer.

Tired of just lying there, trembling, Cecilia opened her eyes and looked at the two of her companions who shared her tent. She wondered how Morrigan and Leliana could sleep so soundly. Annoyed by the thought Cecilia sat up, blankets still tightly around her, and put her boots on. She crawled outside to the firepit where she found logs and kindling which she immediately threw into the small stone circle. The remains of the fire from earlier still smoldered, and with some help from Cecilia it was soon ablaze again. She rubbed her hands together and stretched them towards the welcoming heat. She stood there for a while, quietly staring into the orange and yellow light dancing before her when she heard the familiar rustle of a tent flap opening followed by heavy boots in the wet grass.

"Can't sleep, huh?" Alistair asked.

Cecilia shook her head. "Too cold," she explained with a weary sigh.

Alistair smiled softly and stepped up behind her. He rubbed his hands up and down the lengths of her arms a few times before wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning his chin on her shoulder. Cecilia tipped her cheek against his head and drew another deep breath.

"You're really cold," Alistair said a moment later, leaning back to look directly at her. "You're not getting ill, I hope?"

"I don't know."

Cecilia pulled the blankets to her ears. She quietly watched Alistair round her. He reached out and took her half-numb hands into his and held them to his face. His cheeks were comfortably warm and prickled her reddened skin, and his breath washed over her hands as if she'd dipped them into hot water.

Alistair's eyes glistened in the firelight. Cecilia found it hard to look away. Without noticing, she slowly leaned forward, Alistair's face only inches away. She could feel his breath on her face and neck; the scent of spiced tea, grass and earth.

"You're staring," Alistair hummed with a pleased grin on his lips. Always attempting to lighten a situation: One of the many things about him that Cecilia loved. She smiled back and gently tapped his cheeks.

"So are you," she countered. With that she pulled him in for a quick kiss on the nose. And the lips. And each cheek. And then another on the lips.

Alistair chuckled bashfully in her embrace and held her close as the kiss deepened and tongues slid out to taste one another. Cecilia sighed with bliss into his mouth and leaned heavily against him. He was so warm. She could've stayed like that forever.

"Do you want to- ahem- maybe... join me in my tent?" Alistair stuttered as they pulled apart to catch their breaths.

Cecilia noted the slight blush on his cheeks and how cute it looked on him. How could she refuse?

"Lead the way," she said, and so he did.

They lay down on Alistair's bedroll, arms wrapped around one another, legs tangled, with three woollen blankets covering them. Cecilia fell asleep like that, her head tucked in under Alistair's chin, in his warmth. And there was nowhere then that she would've rather been.


	5. Sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Cecilia Cousland / Alistair Theirin**  
>  This chapter takes place before The Battle of Denerim.  
> Chapter tags (because not every chapter needs the same tags): Love Confessions

“Well...” Alistair says.

“Well...” Cecilia agrees.

Alistair scratches his neck and looks at the bed; the single, small bed standing in the corner of the equally small room. His cheeks are getting hotter and he finds it hard to look at Cecilia.

“So, how- uhm- how did this happen again?” He shoots a glance at Cecilia. She doesn’t look as flustered as he feels.

“The innkeeper said he was out of rooms,” she replies nonchalantly while raising her eyebrows. “This was all he had left.” She, too, stares at the bed.

“Right.” Alistair drags out the word and looks back at the bed. He nods to himself.

He could do this, right; share this small sleeping space with his fellow Warden?  _ It’s just for one night… but it will probably be cramped. _ It has happened before that he has underestimated his own height.  _ But Cecilia is small. Slender. _ He looked back down at her.  _ But she’s curvy too. Ample bosom. _ He clears his throat, hoping that she can’t read minds.  _ Might have to sleep close to each other. _

“Alistair?” Cecilia turns to him, a questioning look on her face.

Alistair clears his throat again and tries hard not to imagine what she might look like under that light armour. He tears his eyes from her chest and meets her eyes.

“Yes?” he replies quickly.

“If you want I could sleep on the floor,” Cecilia suggests and glances down between them. But it’s obvious she doesn’t want to. Alistair feels a pang in his chest and grabs her shoulders without thinking.

“No no no, you’re sleeping on the bed,” he insists, putting on an as serious expression on his face as he can. She is the one of them who was brought up knowing true luxury. She is the one who was forced to join the Wardens and start sleeping on the cold, hard ground. Alistair had volunteered, just as he is now. And even though he misses a good night’s sleep in a soft bed with fresh linen - oh Maker, how he could use that - he is willing to give it up for Cecilia in hopes of her feeling better. Lately she has seemed distant, and Alistair doesn’t want to pry or ask her what’s wrong, so he hopes to help in discreet ways… like this.

“I can’t let you sleep on the floor like a dog,” Cecilia argues.

“But I was raised by dogs, remember,” Alistair adds. “Besides, it’s only one night.”

Cecilia looks at him, only one brow now arched. Her hands are on her hips and she shifts her weight onto one foot. “Well,” she says. “Since it’s only one night, why don’t we share the bed?”

“Sha- share it you say?” Alistair feels his cheeks redden even more. He clasps his hands together in front of him and twiddles his thumbs. Anything to not just stand there and look silly. “But you’re- we’re not...”

Cecilia puts her hand onto his arm and doesn’t speak until he meets her gaze.

“Relax.” She smiles at him. “We’re friends. Why would it be weird?”

Alistair watches her quietly for a moment. Something is off: Why is she so insistent? Another image of them lying next to each other, squeezed onto the bed has Alistair’s palms sweaty and uncomfortable.

“Alright, fine,” Cecilia says then and throws her hands in the air, apparently giving up. She then begins to unbuckle her leathers, piling them neatly on a chair.

Alistair quietly watches her work the firm straps of her chestpiece. His eyes follow her slim fingers as they slowly progress up her torso.

“I said: could you help me with this?” Cecilia’s fingers have stopped on her shoulder, and her voice pulls Alistair back to reality. He looks from her hand to her face and back.

“Oh, yes!” he sputters. “Of course.” His fingers are eager as they reach up to her shoulder and brush over hers. His heart skips a beat at the touch - her skin is so smooth, so soft, and so light compared to his - but he tries to ignore it and focus on the armour. Eventually it falls to the floor with a clatter and Cecilia is left in only soft clothing; a dark blue fitted tunic and matching trousers.

She looks up at Alistair while turning to face him. His face is blank, his eyes fixed somewhere low on her body.

“Alistair?” she says.  _ He’s behaving oddly. _

He doesn’t respond, so she takes a deep breath and turns her back to him and bends down to turn down the covers of the bed. She listens for anything from him, but he appears frozen, so she decides to ignore him, and sits down on the edge of the bed. She pulls her feet up and gives herself a massage.

Alistair meanwhile tries to pull himself together. His mind has gone far too far into the sinful depths of his unconscious and he’s imagining Cecilia taking off the last layer of clothes before laying down on the bed, gesturing him towards her. He tries his hardest not to move. Not moving means he can’t embarrass himself in front of her.

Eventually the fantasy goes somewhere uncomfortable, because he keeps thinking of what the others in their group would say, and so the other members begin to take Cecilia’s place. Shuddering at the image of Zevran, Alistair slaps his own cheeks and shakes his head. Cecilia is watching him now with slight surprise written on her face. He tries to think of an explanation, but before he can get a word out Cecilia says:

“It would make me feel better.”

“What?” Alistair replies, muddled, with his hands still clasped around his own face.

“If you slept in the bed tonight. With me.”

Alistair’s mind goes blank at her words.

“You think I hadn’t noticed?” Cecilia smiles sheepishly at him. A slight blush hides on her cheeks behind her long hair framing her face. She gets back on her feet and steps closer. Alistair backs away, but there is only so much room before he’s cornered against the door.

“It’s alright, Alistair. I… I like you too.”  _ Yes. This is the right moment,  _ she tells herself. She’s been holding it in for so long now. Love at first sight sounds ridiculous, but she can’t think of a better way to describe her feelings for him.

“Maker,” is all Alistair can say, and it’s barely a whisper as it leaves his lips. “I didn’t think- I mean, I didn’t-”

“Alistair.” Cecilia puts a hand on his chest, and when she she looks up to meet his eyes, he notices how her brow is creased. “Tell me to stop and I will.”  _ That’s a lie. _ She won’t stop unless he flat out rejects her. A woman has her needs. It’s almost been a year since they met. She has seen the way he looks at her. Would there be a better opportunity than this with the Archdemon lurking just behind the corner?

Alistair is uncomfortable now, she can see that, so she takes a step back to let him move. She drops her gaze and lets her hair hide her face once more. Alistair pulls at his collar and swallows hard.

“I won’t deny a- a certain  _ something _ between us,” he sutters. “But it wouldn’t be right, right?”

“Why not?” Cecilia insists and looks back up. “I like you,and you like me… right? So what’s wrong with that?” She takes a deep breath. It’s time for a confession if she wants things to progress. “To be honest… I  _ love _ you. ” She lets out a nervous chuckle and tucks her hair behind her ears which probably have turned a bright red by now.  _ Why is this suddenly so hard? _ Her cheeks are burning and she can’t look him in the eye.

“You love me?” Alistair is taken aback, but all of a sudden all nerves are gone and all he wants to do it wrap his arms around Cecilia and hold her close and never let go. And that’s what he does. He pulls Cecilia flat against him, holding her so firmly that she can barely move.

Cecilia gasps, but doesn’t struggle. Her hands find their way to Alistair’s back where they stick to his armour. She buries her face in the exposed crook of his neck and inhales. It’s better than she has imagined. And it’s all so…  _ Alistair _ .

One of Alistair’s hands finds its way up the back of Cecilia’s neck, sending shivers up her back, and digs into her hair. The other remains flat on her back, holding her there.

Cecilia doesn’t want to let go either, but an urge tells her to lean back enough so she can place her lips elsewhere… on Alistair’s lips. But being held for the first time since she left her home and the warmth of her family she finds no strength to do anything else. Her legs feel weak and her body heavy. She wants to lay down. She wants to cry.

Alistair pulls away then, and looks at her. The gathering tears in her eyes makes him panic. Did he do something wrong?

“Oh no,” he huffs. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. I just-”

Cecilia shakes her head and snivels. “No, I’m sorry. That was very nice.” She smiles through the tears that now drip down her cheeks and stain her tunic. “It’s been so long since I was this happy.”

“Happy? Really?” Alistair finds it hard to believe. He reaches up and wipes the tears away with his thumbs. He cups her face gently and tilts it up towards him.

“Yeah,” Cecilia replies.

Alistair looks at her for a short moment; the pink cheeks, the agate green eyes filled with tears and the now messy make-up around them, and the gentle curve of her smile. Without hesitation he leans forward, his lips grazing Cecilia’s. Surprised, she stops crying and stares at Alistair with wide eyes as he straightens. He gives her an apologetic look, unsure of what to say next. She smiles ever wider and pulls him down for another kiss. Their lips lock, clumsy and eager to taste one another. Alistair lets out a soft moan, and Cecilia shudders at the sound. It’s so different from the painful moans that she’s heard him let out during fights. It makes her want more. She presses herself up against Alistair as firmly as she possibly can. The couple staggers backwards and hit the door with a clank, reminding them that Alistair is still fully dressed.

“Cecilia,” Alistair gasps as he pulls away.

Cecilia looks up at him. His face is flushed and his lips are swollen. She did that. Her heart flutters at the thought.

“We should… go to bed,” he says. His words makes it hard for Cecilia to breathe, but then he adds: “We have much to do tomorrow. We should get all the rest we can.” In truth he is too nervous to take it any further. He is utterly inexperienced with women, and the way Cecilia kissed tells him that she has had at least some experience with men. And afraid of ruining their relationship, Alistair doesn’t want to rush things.  _ One kiss is enough for now. _ One amazing kiss that he would go to bed with replaying in his mind.

Cecilia thinks about what has happened in the few minutes since they’ve entered the room.  _ He’s right. This isn’t the time. _ They have just gotten swept away by their emotions.

She lays down on the bed and scoots to the other side. She pats the small space next to her and smiles softly.

“Would you sleep with me tonight?” she asks.  _ Just sleep, _ she adds to herself.  _ And maybe he’ll hold me and remind me that there is still something good left in this world. _

Alistair, who has started removing his armour turns to her, his cheeks still flushed a deep red, and smiles back reassuringly.

He lays down next to Cecilia a moment later, also dressed in just his standard-issue tunic and trousers. He has to lay so close to her that he can feel her hot breath on his neck. He turns to face her and wraps an arm over her small waist. She snuggles closer and tangles her legs with his. And so they fell asleep; happy, comfortable and warm; both thinking of the other with love.


End file.
